They asked, “Are you okay? Are you done?” She answered, “Done? I’m not done; I’m charbroiled.”
I am so far past being done it’s absurd. I paced myself for the marathon, setting the finish line to make it to this moment. This weekend I have a small escape weekend many months in the planning. Last year I went to the Country Living Fair in Atlanta and had an absolute blast. I was absolutely determined to go back this year. I’ve had my tickets since early summer. I rented an SUV so I can tote home whatever I purchase. I did not plan for the upheavals it work, the reshuffling of work schedules and call schedules and my youngest son joining the tackle football team. I didn’t anticipate the car repairs. Who could anticipate needing a entirely new well replacement? And let’s not forget the dentist and the cracked tooth needing a root canal and crown…it’s not hurting YET, so the endodontist can wait.
I paced myself for this mini vacation. I paced myself poorly and I hit the wall on Monday. By Tuesday evening I felt like a sweater unraveling. This morning I felt like Quasimoto with palpitations and fine motor tremors and I was down to single, singular, linear functions. One patient. One room. One problem. One conversation. One thing at a time. For a person who normally juggles three or four things while her internal hard drive runs a background sub menu, being able to only do one thing at a time is foreign. But after leaving the office, I slowly peeled away the other layers on the To Do List; things that had to get finished before I could get out of Dodge: fold the last laundry, cat food, pharmacy, my Rxs, his Rxs, the board meeting, luggage, football practice, yearbook order, balance checkbook, water gardens, pay bills, camera batteries, reading material, Google maps (populated with my travel itinerary and destinations). I peeled and peeled and I am finally lighter and clearer and thankfully still linear and singular. I only have to do one thing at a time this weekend. I only have to factor for myself. Drive to point A. Go to Point B. Forget Point C; I can change my mind. Move Thursday’s plans to Friday. Make a spontaneous detour to that new discovery. Discontent? Come home early if I wish.
I have no place to be other than where I want to be. Both of my sons said separately and unprovoked, “I wish I was going with you.” That makes the whole weekend truly a blessing. I hope I make some new discoveries. It’s an Adventure with a capital A.